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a spreading of wings, a bating of breath, a sense of something coming

Flux

I wrote these words years ago. September 2, 2011 exactly. From the sloughs of sayings and passages, things I no longer agree with – these words rang true.

“When there is no other course, we have to learn to walk the one before us anyway. When we can’t bear the one we’ve found ourselves on, we have to find a place where we can breathe the air again. When we’ve become something we can’t imagine being, we have to find some way back to where we used to be.”

What have I become that I can no longer love? And what, in the storm I passed through in my coming here, did I lose?

When, where, how can I come back to it without running from the things I still need? How do I coallate a new me?